Token
by Slytheringirl777
Summary: A series of one shots focused on a small golden pin that became the symbol of a rebellion. Rated T for language.


**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or any of its characters. **

_A cannon sounds. The hovercraft will be here soon, and I want to be gone when it arrives. I'd like to think her body would rest here, instead of whatever hellish place the Capitol brings the bodies of the dead tributes. I gently set Maysilee's hand on the grassy earth. If it weren't for the wound in her neck, she could be sleeping. I stand up, about to go back and investigate the force field again, when a glint of gold catches my eye. Maysilee's pin, the token she brought into the arena. I can hear the hover craft approaching and know I have to be quick. In one swift movement I bend down, unpin the token from Maysilee's shirt, and place it in my own pocket. Then I turn and run, refusing to look back as the hovercraft removes her body from the arena, making me the only one in the arena from District 12._

I am the only one in my new house. The only one in the whole damn Victor's Village actually. My mother and brother are dead, their lives taken before we could even move out of our old home in the Seam. My girl is dead too, the Peacekeepers came for her the day after I won the games. I don't need any company, I tell myself, I need a drink. The last time I tried to buy a bottle of the white liquor the man in the Hob laughed. Told me to come back when I could grow a beard. That was before the games, and I know that this time, he won't object.

I walk over to the cabinet under the sink and open it. Here, hidden from sight so I don't need to be reminded of the Games every damn day, is where I keep the cache of winnings. I open the bag, and pull out a few coins, enough to buy two bottles of the liquor. That's when I notice it. Maysilee's token. Having been fairly sure that taking another tribute's token out of the arena was likely to be some sort of punishable offense in the Capitol's eyes, I was quick to hide it after my victory. I remove it from amongst the coins and turn it over in my hand. The mockingjay stares back at me, and for a moment I swear it knows it's not mine. I slip the pin into my pocket with the coins, then leave the empty Victor's Village.

Instead of heading to the Hob, I head to the merchant's district. I've only been to this part of 12 a few times before, and don't know the area that well. I likely wouldn't know which house to go to, if it hadn't been for the black curtains in the window-a sign of mourning. I feel like I don't belong here, and want to run to the Hob, but I know if I do the pin will only haunt me later. I steady myself, wipe any emotions from my face, and knock on the door. A short, balding man answers.

"I'm sorry, we're not taking any visitors at this—"he stops as he recognizes me. He gives me a questioning look. "May I help you?"

"I'd like to speak with Maura," I said firmly, hoping I have the name right. The man hesitates, then nods and steps aside to let me in. "You may wait in the living room, right through those doors." I nod, and without another word, walk into the room. It's nicely decorated, at least compared to the homes in the Seam, and looks as though in the past it has housed many happy occasions. But not today. Although several people live in this house, it's just as silent as my own. I wait, not bothering to sit down. I don't plan on staying long. After a few minutes I hear footsteps, and a girl enters the room. She looks just like Maysilee did.

"Haymitch?" she says softly, sounding slightly confused. I can understand why. We've never once spoken with each other, and the only time I've ever seen her was at school. She's probably wondering if it's a normal ritual, a victor visiting his dead fellow tribute's sister. Hell, for all either of us know, it could be.

"Maura." I said with a nod.

"Please, sit down," she says gesturing to the sofa, but I shook my head.

"I'll be quick," I told her. "I have something I need to give you." I pulled the pin from my pocket and held it out to her. She gasped as she recognized it, and tears started to flow down her face. Damn, I'm horrible at knowing what to do when people cry.

"How did you-?" she asks as she carefully takes the pin, gazing at it as if it's the most valuable thing on earth.

"I took it in the arena." I explained, relieved because her question means that the cameras didn't catch my act. "Right after—right before the hovercraft arrived. I had a feeling that if I didn't take it, those monsters would sell it as some sort of twisted souvenir."

She looks up from the pin, and stares wide-eyed at me and before I realize what's happening her arms are wrapped around me in a hug. "Thank you," she whispers and I can feel her tears dripping onto my shirt. "Thank you, not only for the pin, but for being there for her, for-for everything."

I nod, and awkwardly rub her back to comfort her, but I don't cry. After a moment she pulls away. Her eyes are red, but for the time being she's stopped crying. "Haymitch, if you need anything—"she begins, but I cut her off.

"No." I said, perhaps a little too harshly. "No. I'm fine. Hell, I've got a house, I've got money, a fancy little victory tour to look forward to, I must be the luckiest man alive, right?"

She's quiet for a moment, stunned by my tone, but the she nods, understanding. Although she may express it differently, I know she's dealing with loss too. "Thanks for stopping by Haymitch," she says. It's my cue to leave.

Without saying goodbye, I go. In another 20 minutes I'm at the Hob, purchasing two bottles of the white liquor. I head back to my new house and in silence, consuming an entire bottle before a slip into what will hopefully be a dreamless slumber.


End file.
